Experience of a journalist from Vreme: How the police harassed me while I was on an assignment.

Stress, insomnia, sadness, anger. If you ask me how I feel this September 6th in the morning—briefly, that’s it. And not just because of what happened to me, but because of everything Serbia witnessed the previous night in Novi Sad and how some media later distorted my statement.

I was in the capital of Vojvodina on Friday, reporting from the protest and—almost ended up in a police van and a police station, despite identifying myself as a journalist.

I found myself with a group of people cornered against the fence of a children's playground, and then spent about fifteen minutes lying on the grass, my head pressed to the ground, waiting for a police van or some other police action.

I must have stated at least five times that I was a journalist and asked if I could contact the editorial office, only to receive responses that they really didn't care that I was a journalist, and threats not to film... They took my phone, which was connected to an external battery, checked that the recording was not on, and then threw it down onto my feet while I lay with my head on the ground—in a yellow vest clearly marked as a journalist.

They also told me that I would be able to contact the editors from the station if it turned out that I was indeed a journalist.

What happened a few minutes earlier?

It was 10:50 PM when, after the first clashes between the police and demonstrators around 9:30 PM in front of the Faculty of Philosophy and after the police pushed citizens away from the university building along Zoran Đinđić Street and Sunny Quay, firing large amounts of tear gas, they continued to suppress those gathered, who were then mostly standing quietly, waiting to see what would happen next. The people appeared ready to stay there despite the tear gas that was choking them and burning their eyes.

There were many citizens, but the police equipped for dispersing demonstrations were not few either. After the initial dispersal of those gathered at the faculty, two large police vehicles with additional officers came from the direction of the campus—to disperse the remaining citizens, who were also seeking shelter from the tear gas.

Fear

The police did not spare it during the evening of September 5th. I don’t know what everything looked like 25 years and a month ago—I was too young to witness the events of October 5, 2000, but last night I witnessed—I can freely say—the police's assault on the citizens of this state, who came there precisely to oppose police brutality just a few days earlier in the capital of Vojvodina.

When someone at the end of the campus told the dozens gathered that everyone should go to the Waterworks, the people listened and headed in that direction, but the police followed them. In a cordon, along two streets and the park that separates them.

I was there in the front row to observe the police's actions, and then the officers started to run, so I ran too and found myself in a crowd of visibly distressed and frightened people who were fleeing across the meadow. I ran downhill—where the police were pushing the gathered, and then we came across a slight slope and reached the fence. Some jumped over the fence, I stayed down. Cornered in a police dead end.

When the police approached, a few people next to me said they were first aid, I said I was a journalist, turned around so the officers could see the vest that said “PRESS.” A girl from the ambulance grabbed my hand. I felt fear in her grip. I was scared myself because I didn't know what would happen.

They told us that they didn’t care who we were, where our “balls” were now, that they were going to “pump us up.” A police officer told me and the ambulance personnel to go to the other side, but on the other side were his colleagues, and then they ordered us to get up and lie down on the ground.

I repeated that I was a journalist—but they still didn’t care. They uttered various obscenities—I tried to concentrate on my own breathing and calm the stress I was feeling, so I didn’t hear every word.

After a few minutes, they moved us closer to the street and told us to lie there—feet facing the street, heads to the ground, hands on our heads... I tried several times to lift my gaze and see what the cordon standing in front of us was doing, glanced at the people around me, but the police warned us to keep our heads down. I noticed a girl next to me who had offered me her hand a few minutes earlier. Her face was turned toward the ground; I told her to breathe from her stomach, hoping she could hear me and that it would help calm her down.

They forced those with helmets to take them off. I repeated once more that I was a journalist and asked to contact the editorial office; they told me “no.” I didn’t ask them again. After a few minutes, one of the officers who passed above my head commented that there were journalists among those detained.

Someone ordered the police to take off their masks, and once they did, they commented on the tear gas, saying it was very strong. At that point, the agent they used against the gathered also started to bother them.

“Journalist, get up!”

Then a command came over the radio to start taking one by one and identifying them to take them to the station.

I lay there for another five minutes until someone said: “Journalist, get up!” They then asked for my press credentials, inquired who I worked for, and said that if everything was fine, I would be able to go and continue working. I then saw several police vans ready to take those forced to lie on the grass to the station.

The officer who took my accreditation called the commander or whoever and said that among “18-19 people” was one journalist, and that if everything was fine, he would let her go.” On the other end of the radio, approval was heard.

They took my ID and accreditation and then allowed me to make a phone call. They asked if I was injured and if I needed first aid.

One officer told me then that they hadn’t seen that I was a journalist, to which I replied that I had stated that at least five times and that I had received a response that they didn’t care. He told me that “they wear masks and helmets, so they can’t hear and see everything properly.”

After about ten minutes, they returned my documents and apologized for the incident.

I turned around and looked at the people still lying on the ground. I felt anger and sadness that they were lying there and that they would likely be detained.

I stayed there for a few more minutes. I contacted my editorial office, joined the N1 program, as their team was there. I said on the program that the police did not hit anyone at that place. I was wrong—my head was turned toward the ground; I couldn’t see if anyone was hit. What I saw later was that some media distorted my statement and said that I admitted that the police did not hit.

I am even angrier about that.

When I got home, I saw a bruise on my thigh. I don’t know exactly when it happened.

Flight

The gathering in Novi Sad due to police brutality and the police's intrusion into the faculties began at 7 PM.

After almost two hours of programming, the students called on those gathered to go to the Faculty of Philosophy building.

After a few minutes, the Ministry of the Interior issued a statement that they had received information that an attack on the police was being prepared.

In front of the Faculty of Philosophy, a cordon of police for dispersing demonstrations was set up.

Everything became eerie and smelled of conflict since the citizens arrived at the faculty.

In the front rows, several girls were talking to the police officers, and there were gathered individuals wearing masks who appeared ready for conflict. The police, shortly after the gathered arrived at the Faculty of Philosophy, sent multiple warnings not to disturb public order and peace.

At one point, a scuffle broke out—from both sides. Paint was first thrown at the police, followed by more serious incidents—pyrotechnics were thrown from both sides. The police were ready to attack. Several cannon shots were fired, and shock bombs were thrown—from both sides. Some of the gathered demonstrators brought a piece of fencing, and then a stronger clash between the gathered and the police began. The police intervened by firing some chemical agent to disperse the demonstrators. Tear gas was thrown, and then people started to flee.

Anger

Then an even larger wave of tear gas was unleashed. Two students later told me that such a large amount of tear gas had never been fired in Novi Sad.

People were literally suffocating; at one point, I myself struggled to breathe and could barely see. Fortunately, there were people with first aid.

Last night, the police brutally intervened again against citizens who were overwhelmingly protesting peacefully. I felt that this time firsthand. And how does it feel this morning? I am furious.

I wondered if I had made a mistake in anything. I haven’t. I was just on the ground trying to report on what was happening. The police prevented me from doing so.

Source: Vreme